With my last conscious thought I press against Luke’s neck and inhale, ignoring the metallic smack of so much blood. I focus on his warm, human scent. My love for him is fierce, like a living converse of the hateful curse. It grows as I cling to him there on the floor, filling me until there is nothing else and I, Julietta Welsh…slowly…ebb…away.
* * *
A dull ache in my chest nudges me in the emptiness of night. Then a weight presses hard and I wince at the sensation, unpleasant, sharp with an undertone of throbbing. Shots of pain dice my arm, my throat, my chest. The throbbing pulses through me, louder and louder until I realize it is my heart, heavy with strain. Is this just a memory of life? Or maybe…
“Carissima?” The soft alto voice sings like chimes against my ear. “My Julietta…come back to me.” The voice wavers and I fight to chase it against the pulsating rhythm of the blood in my ears. My eyelids feel so heavy yet I push against them, seeking light in the dark. A crack of white forms and my consciousness reaches for it.
“Julietta,” a deeper voice sounds startled. Dad. “Isabella, her fingers. Look, they’re curling.”
“Wake up, Carissima.” Mom.
I fill my chest with air and let the staleness blow out of me. I have a horrible taste in my mouth. My tongue sticks to the junk caking the roof of my mouth. I force a swallow and wince at the bruised sensation down my throat. The crack of white light widens, splitting open. I blink at the blurred haze covering my parents’ faces.
Mom smiles, tears in her eyes. Dad frowns, but I feel his hand brush against my hair. “You in there?” he asks.
“W…what? Where?”
“You’re at Wake Memorial Hospital,” Mom answers. “You were…” her voice trails off.
“Shot and stabbed,” Dad finishes quickly with a flash of contained fury which reminds me.
“Luke!” I struggle to pull myself up, but the pain in my chest and back adhere me to the bed. Mom’s hands flutter up, trying to hold me down without hurting me. Her eyes well up when I grimace. “Where is he? What did they do to him?”
“Shhh,” Mom tries to soothe me. “He’s going to be okay.”
“Did you see who did this to you?” Dad asks. “To you and Luke? He was attacked, too. His head bashed in, stabbed.”
No gunshot? I covered him in time. Relief melts my rigid spine. My eyelids rest for a moment, closed.
“Max, don’t ask her right now,” Mom whispers at Dad. “Carissima? Open your eyes again. You’re safe.”
“If the police are going to catch this psycho, they need information, Isabella. As soon as possible.”
I swallow against the ache in my throat and listen. Mom’s cool fingers feather across my forehead and down the side of my cheek. I rest, my mind focusing on only one thing. Alive! Luke is alive!
“How are we today?” The voice shoots through me and my eyelids open. The little stout woman Patricia called Alba, stands at the foot of my bed. She has a white coat on and holds my chart.
“She’s waking up,” Dad says.
Alba smiles warmly and nods. “I see that. Good.” She walks over and my parents move back. I try to press away from her as she flicks on a pocket flashlight. The light stabs at my eye. “How are you feeling, Jule?”
“Bad,” I say warily. My voice is rough, like tires on gravel.
“Good. I’ll send the neurologist in, but it’s a good sign that you’re feeling things.”
“Where am I?” I ask and ignore the worried glance my parents exchange. I know what they told me, but with Alba here I’m not sure I believe it.
“Wake Memorial Hospital,” Alba says. “I’m a physician here.” Her steely eyes lock with mine knowingly.
“Did you…”
“I patched up the gunshot wound and the knife slice to your shoulder and chest. Luckily, your friend Carly stanched the bleeding and called 911 when she found you.”
“No other surgery?” I glance down my body, draped with a thin hospital sheet with tiny fabric pills all over it.
Her lips tighten slightly. “I did not approve and do not approve unnecessary surgeries, even if I am asked.”
“I don’t think Julietta is asking for another surgery,” my dad interjects.
“Of course not,” Alba chuckles and looks back at her clipboard.
“How is Luke? When will we get out of here?” There are too many questions I need answered before she disappears.
“He’s holding his own, though he suffered a concussion and his stab wound was very deep. He’s stable and awake.” She glances up from the chart. “Asking about you continually.”
“I want to see him.”
“He’s at Wessex Hospital in Raleigh,” Mom says.
“Why?”
Mom and Dad glance at each other, but Alba’s the one to talk. “Your gunshot wound was very serious, Jule. It grazed a major artery feeding oxygen to your body. In fact,” she pauses, her eyes locking with mine, “you died for a few minutes.”
“I…died?” Alba’s stare doesn’t waver. “Died, as in dead, headed toward the light, no heartbeat?” I mouth numbly. I don’t remember a light, or Grandma waiting with open arms. No cherubs and clouds. Nothing at all.
“We had to airlift you to Wake Memorial after we started your heart again,” Alba explains. “The team for cardiac repair is exceptionally skilled here.”
“I don’t remember.”
Alba makes a note in her chart. “That’s not unexpected.” Alba flips to another page and scrawls swiftly along the form. “Mr. and Mrs. Welsh, why don’t you grab a cup of coffee? I’d like to chat with Jule a bit.”
“Uh…okay,” Mom says, squeezing my hand. Dad looks like he’s going to refuse. “If Jule is okay with that.”
“Sure,” I murmur, my mind thawing. I died. Wow. There was nothing but darkness.
“We’ll just take a walk to the café near the entrance,” Dad says and brushes his big paw on top of my head before lowering it to the curve of Mom’s back. They head out the door together.
The door clicks, and Alba perches her hip on the side of my bed. She exhales. “No one’s going to hurt you, Jule.”
“And you’re really a doctor?”
She nods. “Just because I’m a guardian for The Magic Alliance doesn’t mean I can’t also have a life outside my original calling.”
“You…you were coming to help Patricia Ashe take out my ovary or pump me full of hormones or something,” I remind her.
Alba purses her lips. “I came to help Patricia, true, but I came to talk sense into her, not operate.” She shakes her head. “As guardians, we are not here to manipulate lives. We are trained to watch, teach, and protect.” She says the words like they are part of some oath.
“Patricia sure got that wrong,” I mumble.
“Patricia Ashe was assigned by heritage to guard the Siren, since she is a descendant of the original founders, and their original assignment was to protect Maximillian Lamont’s descendants. However, there has been great discussion in the TMA council over the last few years as to the ethical considerations of the Siren-Cursed relationship.”
“Luke and his brother and sister are the victims here,” I add, if for some reason Alba doesn’t know my stance on the issue.
She nods. “I feel the same, but there are many like Patricia who feel it is more important to stick with the teachings and mission of the four original guardians.” She exhales long. “So I continued to keep close tabs on Patricia’s actions, especially when she reported that the Cursed had surfaced in Summit.”
I nod numbly. “I died,” I draw out and look Alba straight in her quick eyes. “That means—”
She nods before I can finish. “The curse is broken. Not just for Lucas Macleod, but also for Taylin and Mathias.”
“They can love?”
Alba smiles widely and nods. “Yes, and despite their mistrust, we are trying to help them assimilate into normal lives.” Her one eyebrow rises high. “It’s not going to be easy.” I loo
k confused. “Love comes with a whole onslaught of emotions—regret, guilt, sorrow, elation, passion. They haven’t felt these emotions, at least not in their pure forms, in over eleven lifetimes. Taylin, especially, is…having problems.”
“God,” I murmur. Taylin had problems to start with.
Alba pats my arm and stands. “Don’t worry. We’re helping her.”
“Carly? Where’s Carly? And Eric? Was Richard Ashe involved?” I don’t want Alba to escape before I get all my answers.
“Hmmm…let’s see, Richard knows nothing about our organization or his wife and son’s activities.” My eyes close briefly in relief. “All that he knows is that his wife has had a mental breakdown and can’t remember much of her life.”
My eyes snap open. “You erased her memories?”
“It was essential that she not remember our organization or her mission. She won’t let it go if she remembers. Patricia has a chemical imbalance as well. Between that and her upbringing in a very strict guardian home, she won’t let go of her fanaticism without interference. There is also the risk of suicide if she recalls that she shot and almost killed you, the very person she was sworn to protect.”
“But Eric?”
“The rest of you remember everything. TMA firmly believes that one must understand history so as not to repeat it.” She tips her head to the side. “Exceptions are required, of course, as in Patricia’s case.”
“So Eric is free?”
“Eric Ashe tried to live up to his guardian responsibilities and protect you, even against his mother at the end. He did lunge for her after she fired. He will continue to help you if needed, but he will be assigned elsewhere, officially. And he will be monitored. Carly’s memories have been returned to her.”
“Where is she?”
“She alternates between you and her mother. Patricia is at Renaissance Center Psychiatric Institute, due to her breakdown and memory loss. We have an associate there keeping an eye on her progress and ensuring that her memory of TMA doesn’t surface.”
“When can I go home?”
“Now that you are awake, I will coach you on what to say to the police investigating the attack on you and Luke. I’ve used some of my…resources to speed along your healing. You will be allowed to leave in a few days.”
A few days! I nod instead of yelling. My chest constricts before I realize why. I want to see Luke. Not just see him—touch him, talk to him now that the curse is broken. What is he feeling? Is he as confused and emotional as Taylin? How does he feel about me, about us? Does he remember my confession? That I knew I was the key?
I sag back against the flat pillows. Maybe a few days will be good. In a few days, maybe I’ll be better able to handle things if Luke decides that he doesn’t actually love me after all. Yeah right. Coward. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to handle that.
Dad peeks around the edge of the door. “All done in here?”
“Come on in,” Alba says. “She is doing very well for someone who’s just woken up, although she can’t remember the incident or the details leading up to it. That may take some time.”
“I want these bastards caught,” Dad nearly growls.
“Of course, Mr. Welsh, we all do.”
“I want them punished for what they did to my baby girl.”
Alba nods. “I believe in karma, Mr. Welsh. People who do bad things live in their own little prisons. Evil punishes those who use it.”
She glances at me and I know she’s thinking about Patricia and how much of her life has been taken from her. Childhood memories, memories of her parents, her training. The Magic Alliance had completely infiltrated her life. The removal of it will leave huge holes, like Swiss cheese, through her mind. I remember the itchy look Carly lived with for days after Eric took just a few memories from her. Patricia will look like that forever. Definitely her own little prison.
“Right now, it is best to just be supportive and gentle with Jule,” Alba finishes.
“Of course,” Mom rubs my hand. “We’re always here for you, Carissima.”
“Alba,” I say as she reaches for the doorknob.
“Doctor Vinica,” Dad supplies her last name.
“Tell Luke that I’m awake. And…that I am asking about him, too.”
Alba nods with a smile and closes the door behind her. Mom talks. Dad talks. The TV talks. I nod and “uh huh” but I hear none of it, really. The curse is broken. There is nothing holding Luke and me together anymore. He is gorgeous and smart. I get by, but there’s nothing special about me, except for my voice. But if that doesn’t call him anymore, then I don’t have anything left to pull him to me. He’s free to love where he wants. Emotions are running amok through him for the first time in two hundred years. What possible reason would he have to still be interested in me?
Mom and Dad leave when I allow my exhaustion to show. Darkness brings solitude, the night shift, fewer nurses, less noise. In the dim glow of the monitors I surrender to the pain clenching my chest. I close my eyes and see his face. His eyes stare back, and the seed of an unnatural glow starts in the depths. It increases, filling the darkness with sparking fury.
I jerk awake with a gasp. But I’m alone, still hooked up to machines with clear little tubes pumping pain relievers, antibiotics, and saline into me. Relief and devastation mix together at the same time, punching away at my remaining emotional strength. I suck in shallow inhales and in the dark, lonely depths of the night, I cry.
23
“So she poured out the liquid music of her voice to quench the thirst of his spirit.”
~Nathaniel Hawthorne
“Naw, he’s not home yet,” Jake says over the phone and sneezes. “Dad’s gone to get him from the hospital. But Mom’s baking oatmeal cookies, so he must be coming soon.”
“Okay,” I say as I stare out my window toward Luke’s house. I prop the phone on my shoulder as I finger the dragonfly charm Luke gave me.
“Crazy, huh,” Jake continues. I can hear a Mario game racing in the background. “A knife and gun assault in little white-bread-and-butter Summit. Mom’s all freaked out. I think she wouldn’t mind if Dad got fired just so we could move back to Boston.” He chuckles. I don’t say anything. The thought of Luke moving hundreds of miles away punches me in the stomach, and I concentrate just on inhaling. Without the curse, there’s no magical force tying the three siblings together anymore, just like there’s nothing tying Luke to me.
“You doing okay, Jule? I mean, wow, a gunshot wound.”
I exhale. “Yeah,” I glance down at my arm sling. It’s been nearly two weeks since the insanity in the Ashes’ basement. The hole is stitched inside and out and healing quickly with Alba’s magical touch or whatever she did to help me. “It’s fine. And Jake, tell your mom I think it was a random thing. Probably some chance psychopaths passing through who figured we had some money on us or something.”
“Luke said something like that.” Jake takes a bite of something crunchy.
“Tell him I called, okay?”
“Sure thing, Jule. See ya.”
Jake disconnects, but I hold the phone tight for a long moment. Two long weeks of not hearing Luke’s voice, not even over the phone. Each time I called, his parents would say he was sleeping or in physical therapy or somewhere.
“He talks about you,” Taylin had sworn when she’d come to visit the one time. “But he’s like…well, we all are,” she smiled, “like, overwhelmed with all this,” she shook her hands as if to flick off something sticky, “emotion crap. Thanks to you.” She’d hugged me then, a real hug, a bit stiff but definitely with substance. “Give him a little time,” she’d whispered. When she pulled back, there had been tears in her eyes. I noticed the black coal liner was missing. “Damn watery eyes,” she cursed and wiped at them, even though she still smiled.
“He knows?” I asked. “I mean, about me knowing I was the last descendant?”
Taylin nodded, lips tight. “Just give him some time.”
“Knock, knock,” Carly says as she walks into my room, bringing me back to the present. “Good, you’re dressed. You ready?”
She sounds like the old Carly, but the red rimming her eyes gives her away.
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks for coming home to pick me up. Mom didn’t want me to do a full day yet.”
“No problem. I’m just missing PE and I’ve got an in with Coach Ashe.”
I pick up my jacket. “How’s he doing with all this? And you?”
Carly nods and swallows as if struggling for control. “He works and then he visits her. I don’t see him much.”
“Sounds familiar.” Our eyes connect and Carly nods. “Carly, I am so sorry.”
“I’m the one with the ganster mom.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I sigh, stopping partway through the exhale, then continue when I remember that I can now sigh, moan, groan, whimper, screech, and sing without bringing on the beast.
“She’ll get better, Carly.” The same words Carly said to me.
Carly nods. “She won’t be the same. They’ve had to take so much memory from her. She barely remembers my childhood. Apparently she was very active in TMA when I was around five, and then again when we moved here.” She shrugs. “That’s actually why we moved here, to follow you.”
I wrap my one good arm around her. “I’m so glad you did move here. What would I do without my BFF?”
She nods into my chest. I hear her sniff for a moment and then she backs up. “Well, we better get going. You have half a day of school and then a big performance tonight. Opening night.” She smiles enthusiastically, but I know it’s forced.
“Madison’s going to be pissed that I’m swooping back into the role of Christine at the last minute.”
Carly shrugs. “There are worse disappointments in life.” We walk through the house. “Have you practiced at all?” she asks as we walk into the kitchen.
Siren's Song Page 33
